This is a brief account of the life of our eldest brother, AVM Manjit Singh who took the long road to nowhere on 09 Dec 2019. He went in a manner in which many elderly people would like to go, if they had a choice. Born on 10 Nov 1934, he was nearly seven years older than me. We were four brothers, and I find it convenient to tell the first part of the story in pictures. My earliest memories date back to 1947, which was the year of our independence. However, during my childhood, it was more often referred to as ‘Partition’. Of the other two brothers, Manmohan (1937-2007) was four years older than me and the youngest; Surinder is three years junior to me.

Our father, Maj Balwant Singh ji was a teacher when this picture was taken.

When Dad joined Army, he carried this photograph with him. I am told that this picture needed many retakes, because it was difficult to make me sit still. Notice, that my left foot is in motion.

Dec 1945. The war had ended, and Surinder had arrived to complete our ‘foursome’

This dates back to 1948. Our eldest brother and I are seen with a neighbour

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It is now time to begin the story in words. Manjit was addressed as ‘vade virji’ by us, and he ruled the roost. Manmohan was ‘chhote virji’ and the younger two had no title. There was one room for the children, in which Surinder and I slept on a single bed. Strict discipline was maintained by the eldest brother, but in turn, he ‘protected’ us if we got into a brawl with other children on the sports field.

I must hasten to add that we were in awe of Manjit ji. He was brilliant in studies, and was endowed with many talents. He could sing, play several musical instruments and make pencil sketches. In parties, he used to play the mouth organ so well that there was a demand for ‘encore’ quite often. He was a natural leader on the sports field.

 He lost a year during the partition. He had to switch over from Urdu to Hindi, and adapt to the unfamiliar syllabus of the UP Board. Despite all these problems, he surprised everyone by standing first in Dehradun district in the High School examination. He was ranked 13^th in the Board and was awarded a merit scholarship. Two years down the line he was admitted into the newly created IIT Kharagpur, and there also he won a scholarship. By all standards, he had set the bar uncomfortably high for the rest of us.

We learnt several things from him. He showed us how to work smart, and simultaneously manage time. We saw how he made friends and influenced people. He was an avid reader, and kept up with Urdu poetry. As for the three of us, there was no choice but to score high marks in Mathematics and Physics. In 1955, here is what we looked like:

The elder two were in IIT Kharagpur with only the younger two of us at home

This picture taken in 1975, has all the nine grandchildren of our parents in one frame

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In 1953, the elder two had gone away, and Surinder and I were left alone. Before I recount the rest of the story, permit me to share a quip. In 1949, on a cold December night, our eldest brother was preparing for his examinations, while the rest of us were lying, cozy in our quilts. Suddenly, the ink in Manjit’s pen ran out. He commanded Surinder to get up and fetch the bottle from our father’s room. Surinder told him that it was too cold for him to get out of the bed. He received a scolding, and when he dithered for the third time, the elder brother issued a threat, “Will you get up or do I have to get up and slap you?” The five-odd year old Surinder had the gumption to say something which the family has not forgotten even today. In a meek and submissive voice, he said, “Virji, when you get up to slap me, please fetch the ink bottle, also!”

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Part Two : The Twilight of our Lives

In 1953, he went away to Kharagpur, and four years later, I joined the National Defence Academy. During the next fifty odd years we met only during family gatherings. Manjit ji retired and settled down in Chandigarh in 1992, but I took up a job after retirement , and remained active even after that for a few more years. Eventually, in 2008 I shifted to Chandigarh. Our houses are only about one kilometer apart, and so we met quite often.

Then, in 2014, our sister-in-law passed away. That was a big blow for Virji. It took him well over a year to regain equanimity. He took to reading, and spent many hours, trying to understand the ‘meaning of life’. He had a flair for writing, and he published five short books. His style is unique. Most of his writings are in the form of a communication with the reader. At no point did he ever criticize anyone, and there is no bitterness of any sort.

Once again, he assumed the role of a mentor. But this time, he had mellowed down. He never raised his voice, and did not mind, if I disagreed with him. If ever I asked him too many questions, his favourite method of putting an end to the ‘guftagu’ was to say, “I have already told you more than what I know on this subject!”

Slowly, but surely, he attained a state of ‘nirvana’ and even ‘moksha’. He had learned the fine art of growing old gracefully. He usually got up early, dressed up meticulously and went for a walk to the famous “Terraced Garden” which is located 500 meters from his house. He had a full time nurse, who accompanied him. And in the garden, he had many friends to greet him. During the last few years, he stopped going to doctors. No more tests and minimum medication. He told me that these pathological tests cause tension and lead to needless medication. Once he told me, “There is no medicine in the world that has no side effect; and there are some, which only have ‘side’ effects!”

 On the last day of his life, he got up as usual, and had gone out for his daily walk in the garden, when death knocked at his door. His nurse, Rekha Khan, helped him to sit down on a bench and he said a silent good bye to his favourite flowers. He did not want to be a burden on any one, and his ultimate wish was fulfilled.

I made a brief summary of what I learnt during the last few years, and I am tempted to share it with my friends. During our childhood, he taught me how to face the challenges posed by life, and in the end he revealed the secret of growing old gracefully.

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Maxims for Aging with Grace

Your body will become frail, with each passing year. Accept this fact, with grace. Slow down your pace of walking, as well as the other activities, consciously.

Pain in the knees, shoulders, neck or lower back is an integral part of old age. You have to learn to live with them. By all means, go to the doctors, but avoid unnecessary tests. Ever so often, you gain more from the fellow patients in the waiting room than the physicians!

The eyesight will deteriorate, and the teeth will decay when the hair turn grey. Remember the adage, “Pain is inevitable; but the suffering is optional”

Daphne Du Maurier wrote, “The point is, life has to be endured, and lived. But how to live it is the problem.”

Some days are good; others are not. You need those bad days, to help you appreciate the good ones!

The physicians have devised a lot of tests. The blood test itself runs into several pages. Sometimes, these tests turn into a malady, and add to the list of drugs. Nearly every pill has side effects. Keep the medicines to a minimum. A very learned ‘guru’ told his disciples:

“If you fall sick, go to a doctor, so that he  may live. Then, buy the prescribed medicines so that the Chemist may live. Back home, throw the medicines away, so that you may live!”

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Do not compete or even compare with your peers. Your race is over. Now, time has come for you to sit back, and be a worthy spectator.

Wise persons keep their expectations low. Indeed, if you expect nothing, you will never be disappointed.

The man called ‘Ajit’, whom you met today, is not the ‘Ajit’ who was your colleague, in service. The visible similarity between the two is an illusion. If you did ‘Ajit’ a favour as his ‘boss’, then chances are that he will avoid meeting you, for reasons that are understandable.

Dis-remember your rank and military awards. You are allowed to write them with your name, but do not let them weigh on you.

Choose your company with due care and avoid getting into argument, especially when the discussion is on politics or religion.

If you are sucked into a position where you are required to manage funds collected from public, be completely transparent. Indeed, you must not clamor or vie for such posts after a particular age.

If you are invited to attend a function, do not covet a ‘VIP’ seat.

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Be particularly careful when speaking to younger people. They are much better informed than you were at their age. Remember, they have a ‘smart phone’ with which they can check out facts and figures even before you can blink your eyelids.

Avoid giving unsolicited advice. But, if a younger person reaches out to seek your opinion, do give him the benefit of your knowledge. But having spoken ‘the words of wisdom’ do not waste your time, trying to check whether he accepted your sage counsel.

Do not be upset with the way your grandchildren dress, eat or party. Remember, when we broke the customs prevailing fifty years ago, and our elders chided us, we did not like it!

The elders have a compulsive tendency to repeat, and the younger people detest having to listen to what they have heard ‘a hundred times’.

Many old people are “I” specialists. They are never tired of talking about their ‘achievements’ and most often, these accounts are exaggerated. The ‘commanders’ forget that the battles were actually won by the unknown soldiers, who received very little in return for their sacrifice.

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Finally, be prepared for the inevitable end. Unfortunate people, who fear death, die many times before the inevitable end. Just remember that death ends suffering. Have you ever seen pain or anxiety on the face of a person who has stopped breathing? Yet, while alive, we must pass through all stages, good or evil.

I end this piece with two poems; the first is from Gurudev Tagore, and the other from Ghalib.

 

“On the day when death will knock at thy door what wilt thou offer to him?

Oh, I will set before my guest the full vessel of my life—I will never let him go with empty hands.

All the sweet vintage of all my autumn days and summer nights, all the earnings and gleanings of my busy life will I place before him at the close of my days when death will knock at my door.”

 

And Mirza ‘Asad’ Ghalib had this to say:

ġham-e-hastī kā ‘asad’ kis se ho juz marg ilaaj

sham.a har rañg meñ jaltī hai sahar hote tak

O Asad! There is no remedy for the anguish of living except death

(But) A candle has to go through all the varied phases until the break of dawn

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I end this story with a picture of AVM Manjit Singh with his wife, Bhajan